Recalling the Rain
by Queen Dork12
Summary: Rory/Jess. Set in the future, Rory recalls experiences she once had with Jess. In future chapters, they will meet again, and well...we'll see! PLEASE read and review. "We were perfect. Maybe not individually, but we were. We were perfect together."
1. Dancing in the Rain

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to every single one of you who reviewed "On a Quiet Night." Every one of them made me feel so wonderful. You have no CLUE how much they mean to me. I'm going to leave that story as it is, as I felt was right, and you all convinced me it was. The idea for this story just popped into my head, and I hope you like it. PLEEEEAAAASE review!  
  
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The rain falls upon my roof, pouring down, down, down and making a splat! with every new drop. It sounds as if it's actually trying to anger me. The nerve of that god-forsaken rain: it is now taunting me. I can hear it laughing, I swear I can. Trying to remind myself that I was raised by a woman who could hear ten-thousand termites yell, "charge!" in the night, I turn over restlessly and try to bury my head into my pillow in order to block out the noise, sighing irritably when this proves to be unsuccessful.  
  
There was a time in my life when I didn't mind rain so much. I tolerated it. Hell, there may have even been a time when I enjoyed it. There was nothing more comforting than curling up under the blankets with a good book and a steaming mug of strong coffee, the rain keeping a regular pitter- patter, pitter-patter on the roof above.  
  
But now, it's going Bam! Bam! Bam bam bam! on the roof, and things are running through my mind that I've spent the last five years trying with no avail to forget.  
  
Why doesn't something that I can control remind me of you? Something I could just put away, hide from my sight, and therefore never think of you again: out of sight, out of mind. And of course, other things do remind me of you. But naturally, naturally, the one thing that hammers the memories into me like no other is a natural weather occurrence that no one has any control over, except maybe God.  
  
God, help me! Please? Like, create some new way to hydrate the earth without it actually raining. I know you can do it. C'mon, God!  
  
Oh, I give up. I do every time, but each time it seems like such a travesty. Slowly and deliberately, I turn over, and surrender. Surrender to the rain, to the aching feeling inside me, and to all of the memories. Some are good, some are bad, and all are hard.  
  
* * *  
  
"I need to go now," I said, reluctantly pulling away from, if they ever did some official study on the matter, must be the world's best kisser.  
  
"Ok," you reply, with a glint in your eye. I look at you suspiciously, and then climb to my feet. Just as I'm turning away to go to the door, you grab my arm and pull me down, smothering my squeals with your kisses. I can't help but give in for a moment, but then I push you away.  
  
I stifle a giggle, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to take over my face. Me smiling in a situation like this was like this huge green light for you, saying, "You win! Now proceed to kiss Rory senseless yet again, so that she will never return home!" That's how you seem to take it, at least.  
  
Sure enough, you're looking at me with that little boy look, unblinking, as if you're just counting down the minutes until I break down and you win.  
  
"I'm leaving now," I say, getting up. "Wait!" You grab my arm. "Ten more minutes."  
  
"Jess."  
  
"Fine, five."  
  
"I'm already late." This doesn't seem to persuade you, so I add, "And Luke's due for his half-hourly inspection any minute down. He'll really be on your back tomorrow if you make me late."  
  
"And how on earth does he know that you're not up here, pinning me to the couch, kissing me with loads of passion, while I am struggling so hard to remind you that we never would want your dear, dear mother to worry."  
  
I maintain my amusement at this, looking at him pointedly.  
  
"You're right. Come on, let's get you home."  
  
"Jess."  
  
"Geez, what is it now?"  
  
"Jess, it sounds like it's pouring outside."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So, your car's in the shop, Luke let Jackson borrow the truck, and I have no car. I'll just call mom to come get me."  
  
"Rory. You astound me sometimes. Are you really afraid of getting a little wet? You aren't a witch, are you?"  
  
"Well, now that you mention it."  
  
"Come on, it'll be fun. I promise."  
  
I cast a longing look towards the phone, and you roll your eyes, sighing.  
  
"I'll let you wear my coat, okay?"  
  
Before I can answer to this, you jump up, grab your coat from atop a chair, and help me into it. I love the way it makes me feel-small and secure. It smells just like you-oil and gasoline from your car, smoke, and just enough a hint of some unidentifiable sweet thing.  
  
You open the door, and we make our way down the stairs together. When we get into the diner, Luke immediately sees us. I brace myself for the Jess- Luke badinage hour, which has become routine in these past couple of months.  
  
"What the hell are you two going to do? It's raining out."  
  
"Is it really? Well, golly geez."  
  
"Jess."  
  
"We thought we'd just go out for a little stroll. Or maybe, if the mood strikes us, we'll go singing in the rain. You know, try the whole Judy Garland bit?"  
  
"Jess."  
  
"Relax. I'm just going to walk Rory home."  
  
"Why doesn't Lorelai come pick her up here?"  
  
I intervene briefly here. "That's what I said."  
  
Jess shoots me a death look, clearly saying Why Are You Not Helping Me?  
  
"Jess, if Rory doesn't want to do this, then you are not doing this. Do you hear me?"  
  
"Jesus, it's not like I'm forcing her to-"  
  
"Luke, it's fine. I was-I was just kidding. It's really alright." I smile in what I hope is reassuringly. I must have failed, because I still manage to get a dirty look from Luke.  
  
"Fine. Just go. Straight there, now. No doing-well, no doing anything else."  
  
"You mean we can't even-"  
  
"Jess, I am serious."  
  
"Relax. It's under control."  
  
"Oh, and that is so reassuring coming from you." He storms off, muttering about stupid kids, and suckers, and messes. Well, that's what it sounds like. Who knows what Luke thinks about? Besides thinking about my mom.  
  
Jess waggles his eyebrows up and down, making me giggle. He reaches over and pulls up the hood of his jacket that I am wearing so that it covers my whole head. It's so big it droops over and covers my eyes.  
  
"Ready?"  
  
"I am so ready."  
  
"Then, come on. What are you wasting time for?" He grabs my hand, opens the diner door, and pulls me outside into the showers with him. It's freezing, and the rain is coming down really hard, but I feel excited and full of adrenaline for some reason.  
  
We sprint-or, run as fast as two people can who despise running and are holding hands on a wet, dark, slippery night-through the square. The hood on your jacket is so big that it already fell off, and the majority of my hair has slipped out from the elastic that was keeping it up and plastered itself to my face. You are-or look-soaked straight to the bone, as you have no coat. At the gazebo, you slow down, and we both pant for breath.  
  
All of a sudden, I cannot stop laughing. Nothing is funny, and when I think about that, the whole situation just seems that much more hilarious. You stare at me, puzzled.  
  
"What?" I can't stop laughing long enough to answer you.  
  
"What the hell is so funny?"  
  
I finally manage to get in between hiccupy-giggles; "I have no clue!"  
  
You look at me for a moment, then burst out laughing yourself. I love seeing you laugh, and you don't do it nearly enough. I never thought that the two of us would be outside, the rain beating down on us in the middle of the square, laughing like two hyenas at nothing in particular. It sounds like something I would end up doing with my mother, but yet, I'm here with you.  
  
After what seems like a decade of laughter, you pull me close, pressing your dripping forehead onto mine. I feel your strong fingers lace themselves around my tiny ones, and you kiss me just slightly.  
  
"Hi," you say.  
  
"Hi."  
  
All of a sudden you start swaying slightly, putting my hands on your broad shoulders, and placing yours on my waist.  
  
"Now, I know that neither one of us are quite up to the whole singing in the rain thing, but how do you feel about dancing?"  
  
"Dancing in the rain? Rebelling against the great Garland tradition?"  
  
"I do believe we are up to it. I am, according to Luke, James Dean. So I think I can handle the whole rebelling part."  
  
"Yes, you can handle it. I, however, have no James Dean in me, and did not inherit neither my mother's nor my father's rebel gene. It must have skipped a generation. Also, I have had extremely bad experience with dancing in the past. So, oh well, too bad, I'll just have to sit over there in the gazebo and watch you dance." I attempt to break away from you, but you stop me.  
  
"I don't think so, Mrs. Dean. You're with me now, which makes you a rebel as well."  
  
Before I can further protest, you grab one of my hands and twirl me around clumsily, resulting in another laughing fit from me.  
  
"See? I suck, too," you say.  
  
"No, you don't."  
  
"No?"  
  
"No. You're perfect."  
  
"No. You're the perfect one."  
  
"Nuh-uh."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"We're both perfect. Let's just say that."  
  
Anyone just passing by or looking out a shop window would think we were crazy. Out in the square, probably close to midnight by now, in the hardest rain we've had here in a while, and if that wasn't enough, we were dancing on top of it all. Probably breaking at least a dozen town rules. Taylor would have an absolute fit if he saw us. My mom was probably worrying herself half to death about us, and Luke was most likely practicing his lecture for Jess when he gets back. That didn't matter, though. None of it did. We were just concentrating on that single moment. We were just happy there, dancing in the rain.  
  
* * *  
  
I felt a smile play on my lips, as I always did, recalling that memory. Some are just happier to remember than others are, and that was one of them. Although happier, not happy. There are no happy memories left, as they all cause me so much pain to recall them.  
  
Because we were perfect. Maybe not individually, but we were. We were absolutely perfect together.  
  
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Depending on how you guys respond to the first few chapters, I will continue to build on it. I thought I could do a few of these type chapters, memories and all, and later get up to her and Jess meeting again somehow. PLEASE send me reviews and ideas. They really make my year, and God knows I need them. Please with chocolate-covered espresso beans on top!! I love you guys. 


	2. A Dagger in Me

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to whoever reviewed the first chapter! I say it every time, but reviews mean the WORLD to me. So PLEASE review. They inspire me to get writing, and they really help me change things that you guys point out. In my opinion, this chapter is kind of shaky, but it's kind of a transition-type chapter. I was planning on doing a whole breakup- flashback thing for Chapter Three, and I wanted to kind of lead up to all of the hurt Rory was going to be feeling. So, if you don't like this chapter as much, don't give up! Tune in for the next one; I promise it'll be better. Quick shout-out to Mally-you've helped me SO much with this, and I love love LOVE you! Thanks a bunch.  
  
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My alarm clock startles me, ringing more obnoxiously than seemingly ever before. I hadn't been sleeping, but it surprised me nevertheless. I threw it across the room, wincing slightly as it hit the wall with a crunch. After it was silenced, I listened for something outside. Just as I dreaded, I heard the raindrops, crashing down on the roof, with no sign whatsoever of stopping.  
  
I knew that I couldn't go to work like this. All day I'd be on the verge of tears; every word that anyone spoke would bring back another memory. I picked up the phone and dialed the number of the office I had been interning at all summer, praying that my boss, Georgia wouldn't be in this early.  
  
Thank the Lord, she wasn't. I left a brief message, saying that I wasn't feeling well, and hung up with relief. God, she was going to be furious. I only had four days left in my internship, and Georgia was a dictator regardless. I had thought about staying to work to whole summer, just to stay away from Stars Hollow, but after I met Georgia I changed my mind rather quickly.  
  
No matter how much heartache Stars Hollow causes me, it was better than being here. At least I get to see mom. That was a huge plus. But she always puts so much effort into trying to make me feel better and the more she tries, the more depressed I feel.  
  
Because we used to always be so happy together, being able to cheer each other up no matter the circumstance. I guess this circumstance is the one sole exception, because now it's like I'm completely different and she's always trying to make me the same again. But nothing's the same anymore.  
  
He introduced me to rain and now, in his absence, he's made it rain on every part of my life-even on the one relationship I was sure would never change. Then again, he's changed a lot of things that I always counted on.  
  
With a defeated sigh, I press "play" on the VCR, starting over the same tape I had just watched twice in the last six hours. It was "Singing in the Rain."  
  
* * *  
  
We never really mentioned the whole dancing incident to each other, but every time it rained from then on the whole world seemed to be filled with magic.  
  
In the diner you would look outside very pointedly, then look back at me and raise your eyebrows with a smirk. Mom was always on my case as to why I had that "goofy smile" on my face, and I didn't mind in the least walking to my bus stop in the rain.  
  
It was like my mom with snow-the rain was a special "present" made just for us. And each time it rained we couldn't help but go out and enjoy our present a little bit.  
  
We had our first fight in the rain. We danced in the rain again and again and again. We took walks in the rain, sipping coffee and stealing kisses as we strolled down the empty streets hand in hand. The first time you ever told me you loved me was in the rain. The last time you ever told me you loved me was in the rain. We had our last fight in the rain.  
  
* * *  
  
I was watching Judy Garland dance around and sing in the rain, when out of nowhere I had the urge to do the same, Jess or no Jess. In all the times I had my mopey-rain days, I had never once had the urge to do anything on my own. I had always wanted him to be with me.  
  
Ignoring Judy for the moment, I went over to the window, peeled back the curtains, and peeked outside. It was raining in the most perfect way: just hard enough so it would make most people rush through it clutching their umbrellas with their perfectly groomed hair and clothes whipping around in the wind. But not so hard it hurt and pelted you cruelly, making you squint your eyes in order to keep the water out of them and to even see.  
  
It had been so long since I'd been out in the rain. Each time it began to rain, I'd done what I'm doing right now: hiding out like a coward in my apartment, afraid to face the world, afraid that they could somehow see the weakness that this weather brings me. And I was tired of hiding. The rain was still my present. Just because he isn't here for me to share it with anymore, it doesn't change the fact that it is mine, too.  
  
With a newfound sense of courage, I switched off the TV. I went to the closet and got out my rain jacket and boots, putting them on and fastening the hood of the jacket securely. As I walked out of the front door, I couldn't help feeling a little nervous, but at the same time very proud and extremely brave.  
  
Maybe I was healing. I didn't think it would ever happen-I just assumed that I would remain deeply hurt and depressed for the rest of my life. But five years is a pretty long time to wallow. Healing might be possible after all.  
  
* * *  
  
For a while I just walked around town, timidly, as if walking in the rain was an art and I was so rusty I had simply lost my grasp on the craft. I shivered; it was a cold rain. What I needed was coffee. There was a pretty good shop nearby, and when I got there I decided to stop in for a cup. They had a pretty good little book corner, so after I got the coffee I looked around. I stopped at the poetry section and picked up "Howl".  
  
I hadn't read it in ages, considering that it was the book you stole from me that first time we met, so consequently, like so many other things, it reminded me of you and I avoided it. I skimmed through it, smiling slightly. I had forgotten how good it was. It seemed a bit empty without your notes in the margins, but I decided to overlook that.  
  
I marched over to the register, pulled out a couple bucks, and bought it. I smiled in my triumph, considering this to be my first official sign of Healing. The first of very many. I put the book in my pocket, threw away my now-empty coffee cup, and started out again.  
  
* * *  
  
I just wandered around for a while after that, feeling more confident than I had before. The art of walking in the rain must be returning. The streets were empty, and the old feeling of excitement and giddiness that I used to get whenever it rained began to make its way back to me.  
  
I felt a giggle bubbling up in my throat, and for the first time in what seems like forever, I let it escape. It felt so good to laugh again, so I didn't stop. I just laughed and laughed and laughed.  
  
When I got to the park, I stopped, and took my hood off. The wet, cold, rain fell crisply against me, and my hair became matted against my face. I took off my jacket, letting the rain completely drench me. I closed my eyes and began to twirl around, smiling up at the gray sky. As I danced I forgot about everything; I didn't care how ridiculous I looked to the rest of the world, I was too occupied to worry about them right now.  
  
I heard a noise, and I stopped abruptly, opening my eyes. Across the park I saw a couple who couldn't have been older than seventeen, not rushing, but just slowly strolling in the rain. They were holding hands and smiling at each other, completely oblivious to the world around them. They hadn't even seen me.  
  
All of a sudden I felt everything crashing down on me, all of the "healing" that had occurred suddenly erased, and all the hurt came flooding back to take its place. I began to cry, and took off running, leaving my jacket lying there. I couldn't care less what happened to it.  
  
I ran the whole way back, just needing to be out of the rain. Every drop was like a dagger in me. I never stopped crying, and as I kept running, my tears and the rain mixed together. You couldn't even tell where one ended and the other began.  
  
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Ok, guys, PLEASE review. PLEEEEEEEAAAAAASEEEEE. If you have ANY ideas, I would LOVE to hear them. Be critical! I love you all. 


	3. Silent Screams

AUTHORS NOTE: Hey hey hey! Well, I am terribly sorry it has been so long since I updated. ( I am quite ashamed. See, I had it all written and stuff, but then I proofed it and it was like, blaaaaaah. And I KNEW you guys would not want a blaaaaaah story. So there. Anyhoo, thanks be to all of you who reviewed my meager little story. You have no CLUE how much those words of encouragement mean to me. And some words of correction. Tee hee hee, one of you-I don't remember which-and I am far too lazy to go look it up, pointed something out Very Crucial. I feel SO STUPID!!! Ok, here goes: Judy Garland was not in "Singing in the Rain". Aaaaaah! I am, like, the old movie BUFF, so imagine my shame when I found this out. I am going to edit it out, like, PRONTO, and then, I promise I will double check my references from now on. Quick thanks once again to Mally-you are my secret twin, and I love love LOVE you, and none of this would be HALF as good, if even possible, without you. PLEASE REVIEW!!!  
  
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I burst into the apartment at full force, soaking wet and chilled seemingly to the bone. For a moment I just stood by the door, as if I wasn't sure quite what to do. My breathing was heavy from running home, and a cloud of tears was obstructing my vision.  
  
Finally, I moved clumsily away from the door and collapsed onto the couch. I carefully pulled the blankets all around me, bothering only to kick off my boots. I knew that I should change into something warm; I could already feel myself shivering, but there was simply nothing left in me to do even the simplest of tasks.  
  
Slowly, I curled up into a tight ball, tucking the blankets up to my quivering chin. I closed my eyes, meaning to only do so briefly, but all of a sudden I felt absolutely exhausted: mentally, physically, and emotionally. My eyes didn't open; they wouldn't have even if I tried by force.  
  
And so with the rain steadily beating down overhead on the roof, my clothes wet and cold, I fell asleep, letting the welcomed sleep wash over me.  
  
* * *  
  
It was a whirlwind of me: spinning around, faster and faster, to the point where I couldn't see myself in clear form anymore. Then all of the memories-good, bad, indifferent-got dumped in the pool and started spinning around, too, until they all meshed into one single memory.  
  
We were walking through the park back in Stars Hollow one barely rainy afternoon. I was talking passionately about something; Jess was laughing at me. The conversation was one I remember clearly: he had just said something about JD Salinger-something meant to be critical, not insulting, but I took it very personally and was defending the genius, not letting him get a word in edgewise. It was in perfect clarity, exactly how I remembered it.  
  
But then, all of a sudden, we were in the same park that I had been in this afternoon. I (my present self) was watching me (my past self), and I was yelling something-a warning, I think-but no words were coming out; it was just a silently moving mouth. I looked up to the sky in frustration, and I saw him there, just perched on top of a rain cloud, watching me.  
  
I reached up my hand towards him, and he was reaching back. Right as our hands met, he jerked back, and disappeared. The rain started pouring down harder, so hard that I felt like I was drowning; I couldn't even breathe.  
  
* * *  
  
I woke up with a start, breathing heavily and in a cold sweat. I lied there for a moment, my head racing, and then did the only logical thing to do after I had had a freaky dream. Instinctively, I picked up the phone and dialed mom.  
  
"Hi hello."  
  
"Mom?" I asked, timidly, although I could never mistake that reassuringly familiar voice for anyone else's.  
  
"Rory?!?"  
  
"Yeah. It's me." I felt bad hearing how happy it made her to get a call from me. I could kick myself for not calling every day, even more at times.  
  
"Oh my god! Hey, you! What's up?"  
  
"Oh, not a lot," I lied. Knowing it would get her talking, I asked, "What about you?"  
  
"Oooooh, not a lot. Except, uh, the not-so-charmingly abrasive sociopath otherwise known as the woman who masqueraded as my mother for my entire childhood is officially on a rampage to take over Stars Hollow and then the world."  
  
"And how is she planning to do that?" I asked, stifling a giggle at my mom's melodramatics.  
  
"Oh, well I'm so glad you asked. See, the headquarters for the Daughters of the American Revolution has been taken over by the Sons of the Irish Revolt or something like that. Sooooo, naturally, all of the 'acceptable' meeting places in Hartford are occupied on Wednesdays, when they meet, and of course she can't change the meeting day to another day that has more vacancies to their advantage. Oh, no, no, no. That would like, be destructive to their matching hair-do's or something. My dear mother has decided that it would do the women good to meet in a 'quaint, quieter, place a bit off the beaten track'. She wants to meet at the inn!"  
  
"No!" I said, not bothering to stop my giggles this time.  
  
"Oh, yes. Of course, I tried to stop her, but did she listen? No. Has she ever listened to me? No! And I was telling her all of this and-uh- oh."  
  
"What?" Damn. She had caught on.  
  
"Why aren't you at work?"  
  
"Oh, well-"  
  
"Is everything ok? Honey, are you ok?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm good."  
  
"You're good?"  
  
"I'm good."  
  
"Well, that's good. Um, I am glad that you are good."  
  
"Yeah. Me, too." There was an awkward silence, and I knew it was my turn to fill it. I added hastily, "It was raining."  
  
"Aw, honey."  
  
"It was raining, and I got all sad, and I called in sick, and then I wallowed, and I went out, and bought 'Howl' and danced, and it was bad, and I fell asleep, and I had this dream, and it was so awful, mommy." Through all the babbling and insanity, I knew that she would know exactly what happened.  
  
"Oh, sweetie. I am so, so sorry."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So, um, you had a dream, huh?" She asked, knowing me well enough not to ask me to relive my horrible moments.  
  
"Uh-huh. But I-"  
  
"Well, I assume you need an analysis. So, go on. Chatter away."  
  
I smiled, grateful for the small miracle of how well she knew me, and for how much I loved her. I spilled every last miniscule detail of the dream, and she made sympathetic noises in all the right spots. When I was finished, it felt so good to get it all out, and so good to feel close to her again.  
  
"So, what do you think?"  
  
"Oh, well, this is such a classic."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Sure! Symbolism, through and through. Everything. I mean, the spinning was because you still feel kind of thrown after that huge blow that you took. You've worked so hard and you've put your entire life back together, but there are still times when that whole incident just rears its ugly head and you can't help but being kind of pitiful for a little while. And like, when you couldn't see yourself clearly for a second, it's like Jess took this part of you with him, and you might not ever get it back, so you're struggling to see that part of you that you lost."  
  
"I want it back."  
  
"I know you do, babes. I know you do."  
  
"Maybe when I was yelling at my past self it was like when you and everyone else was warning me about him, but I just couldn't make myself hear you."  
  
"Oh, Rory, no. Even I couldn't see that one coming. Don't beat yourself up about it."  
  
"I know. It's just hard."  
  
"I know it, sweetie." I could hear her take a shaky breath, and I realized how much it really killed her to see me so torn up.  
  
"I love you, mom."  
  
"Oh, honey, I love you, too."  
  
"I know that I haven't been like I used to be a lot of the time after all that happened, and I just-"  
  
"Rory, I understand."  
  
"No! I shouldn't act that way toward you over something that happened five years ago! God, so we broke up. People break up all of the time!"  
  
"Not like that, Rory! Listen to me. You loved Jess so, so much. No matter how neatly or how messily you guys break up, it's gonna hurt. You don't just get over it. No matter how strong you are it takes enormous amounts of time, and honey you are strong. So don't go and start doubting yourself. Just stop right now."  
  
"Ok," I said softly, sighing. "Um, what else about the dream?"  
  
"Oh!" She said, surprised, as if you didn't expect me to give in quite that easily. "Oh, well, ok it's like you were......"  
  
* * *  
  
After I hung up with mom, I felt slightly better. Better, but still kind of discontented. My mind was swimming, and I just needed to clear it. I needed to escape this world that I was stuck in for the time being, and spend some time in another one. I needed to read.  
  
I reached for the coffee table, thinking that I must have left "Howl" sitting there after I came in, before I dozed off. But as my hand felt around the empty surface I realized what had happened. I knew now that "Howl" had been tucked into my jacket pocket, which was now lying out in the rainy park. It may have even peeked out of the pocket by now, soaking up some of the rain in its thin pages. All that I knew was that it wasn't here; I didn't have it.  
  
I ambled out in the hall to check if the newspaper had come yet. I still needed to read something, something to chase the rest of my jumbled thoughts right out of my head.  
  
When I opened the door I saw the newspaper sitting there, wrapped in a protective cover, needy little raindrops clinging to the plastic surface. I picked it up and began to shake the stubborn droplets off, but then stopped dead in mid-fling. Because underneath where the newspaper had been, there was a book. And not just any book.  
  
My mouth hung slightly open in disbelief. After a long moment of gazing stunned at the spot on the floor, I looked up. I glanced quickly up and down the hallway, and hastily swiped the book up, throwing one last glance around, as if I was afraid that someone was about to catch me in the process of committing an unspeakable crime.  
  
Numbly, I made my way back into the apartment, staring at the book the whole way. My mind was still far from comprehending the situation. The book was obviously new. It didn't have any scuff or dirt marks on it, but something set it apart from the rest of all the new books in the world.  
  
It had the waterlogged, somewhat swollen look of paper that had been left out in the rain. The thin collection of pages stuck together as I attempted to flip through them, and some of the ink ran together. But as I was hurriedly going through the pages, something caught my eye.  
  
In the margins of nearly every page, not large enough so one would notice them right off hand, but tucked in there as if to be discovered by further scrutiny, were tidy handwritten little notes.  
  
At first glance I recognized the handwriting. And as I read the ample remarks, I had a sense of déjà vu. I recognized them, too. I had read them before.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
PLEASE REVIEW!!! I love you all. 


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